


Skin Tight

by kore_rising



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: F/M, Implied Ariadne/Robert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-05
Updated: 2010-08-05
Packaged: 2017-10-14 11:00:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/148563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kore_rising/pseuds/kore_rising
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The team checks up on Robert after the mission (kind of like a routine checkup). They get into Robert's dream - everyone's in suits as usual, but Robert's subconscious decided to put Ariadne in a leather catsuit. Just because. Cue overprotective!Cobb, aroused!Robert, freakingout!Arthur, and amused!Eames.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Skin Tight

**Author's Note:**

> Rating: Strong T, mostly for language  
> Pairing: Arthur/Ariadne, Ariadne/Robert  
> Notes/Warnings: Written for [this](http://community.livejournal.com/inception_kink/3434.html?thread=3895402#t3895402) prompt at [](http://community.livejournal.com/inception_kink/profile)[**inception_kink**](http://community.livejournal.com/inception_kink/): The team checks up on Robert after the mission (kind of like a routine checkup). They get into Robert's dream - everyone's in suits as usual, but Robert's subconscious decided to put Ariadne in a leather catsuit. Just because. Cue overprotective!Cobb, aroused!Robert, freakingout!Arthur, and amused!Eames.  
>  The characters, setting and story of _Inception_ are the property of Christopher Nolan and no cash is being made from this story.

There's a few things no one wants to hear when they wake up. "Did you see the guy who did it?" is one. "Just stay calm, it's going to be OK." is another. "Oh my god!" is probably the worst. But I have a new personal favourite which I've just added to the list:  
"Sweetheart, if I'd have known we were doing fancy dress I'd have worn a bowler and brought my umbrella."

~#~  
The task was pretty simple- make sure Fischer's subconscious was still acting on the implanted idea that we had put there all those months ago. Never mind he'd been been getting almost non stop coverage since he announced the launch of the Fischer Foundation, a mere fortnight after our shared dream. Even Cobb was amazed that we had managed to alter him so radically from corporate figurehead to philanthropic icon in such a short time. And I suspect that's why he was so keen to re enter his mind. Perhaps it just looked far too good to be true, never mind that Cobb was enough of a cynic after his experience with Mal to have his doubts.

Luckily, about the time Cobb started to mutter darkly and shake his head every time Bobby showed up on CNN with his huge blue eyes and razor sharp cheek bones pledging to save the world,the perfect opportunity landed in our laps. It transpired that Fischer was due to have a root canal. So it was quite easy to bribe his dental surgeon to put him under, then give us ten minutes alone with him, no questions asked. Say what you like about Eames, he knows the way to many men's hearts and it usually starts in their wallets. And so in we went.

~#~  
Coming to consciousness in a dream isn't like waking up in the morning. It's more like landing hard on the ground. Everything jolts into place, all your senses go from nought to full power before you can process what they're telling you and for a moment you're stranded wide eyed and open mouthed, even if you knew what was going to happen and where you were supposed to be. Apparently the shock eases as you get more experience and you can start to operate faster, but at that time I was still prone to come to more slowly than the others. Eames used to love it: "Come on, Dolly Daydream!" He'd bellow in my ear and start to march me through whatever landscape we were in with scant regard for my stumbling, mumbling gait. Arthur was more patient, sitting quietly until I raised my head in recognition. Or later, when we had become a couple in the eyes of the world, taking my hand and gently rubbing my knuckles with his thumb until I focused on his face. Cobb would simply stand with me as if we were soldiers on our own solitary guard, close enough to be reassuring but not close enough to smother me. An older brother, ready to put out his hand but not ready to offer it until I asked.

Fischer's check up was to be one dream level, a repeat of the hotel scenario we had originally designed for him since it was familiar and would offer us plenty of scope for seeing how he was developing. It was a risk, but since Cobb was sure Mr.Charles would be an adequate guise in which to question Fischer it made sense to frame him somewhere his subconscious would be least likely to be roused. Having Mr. Charles waltz gamely out onto a Caribbean beach in his suit and tie and start asking how Fischer was doing would probably have lasted us just long enough to order rum punch, despite Eames putting in an early bid for "Somewhere warm, rather than freezing my nuts off above the snowline, again."

Honestly, I wasn't too thrilled either. Last time Arthur had popped me into a spiffy grey number (along with some fascinating and gorgeous underwear, probably meant for another scenario entirely- the first time I mentioned it to him his ears went a warm shade of pink. Then I found a gift box from La Perla tucked on my office chair, and things kind of went a bit mad after that.)It wasn't so much uncomfortable as awkward, and since awkwardness, like pain, is in the mind it wasn't easily shaken. I was privately hoping the compensation of seeing at least four attractive men in suits was going to be enough to take my mind off it.  
-  
So when I came to, blinking and muzzy, Eames lazy English drawl didn't quite register at first. Fancy dress? Could the grey suit be so obviously bad on me that I was sticking out like a sore thumb?

They were clustered tightly around me in a huddle of black suiting and the smell of expensive leather.  
"Be quiet. This isn't funny nor should you make it a joke. We need to find Robert, get him to answer our questions and get out of here. Give her your jacket for god's sake and stop gawping." Cobb's voice snapped.

"Say what you like Dom, but no one dresses my fiancée like that. I'm going to shoot out both his kneecaps when he finally shows up, the fucking pervert. Then he can tell us if he still thinks he can walk on water."

"Arthur, what...?" Everyone's attention snapped to me.

"It's OK, Ariadne." Cobb knelt in front of me, "It's just...Fischer's subconscious. We'll get him to change this and we'll go. Don't think about it. It's nothing but a reaction to you as an attractive young woman..."  
"...Blimey, I wish my reactions were like that..."  
"...It's not necessarily something he wants to act on in reality."  
"Damn straight it isn't."

"What's he done? Am I..." my brain blurted randomly like a twittering imbecile, "...blonde?" I reached up to grab a lock of my hair in sudden, stupid panic, but something else got my attention. Whatever I was wearing was a lot more inflexible than grey wool, and certainly no wool had ever made a sound like that. Then I caught sight of my arm, definitely not clad in grey. Very slowly and very cautiously, I looked down at myself. And my heart nearly stopped in shock.

Fischer, the new darling of the charitable world, the man who would save us all; charming blue eyed Robert Fischer's subconscious had dressed me in a skin tight, butter soft, dark brown, zip fronted, form hugging, leather cat suit. The smell of expensive leather was me. He'd even gone so far as to make sure my stack heeled boots matched, my zip front was just undone enough to show the swell of my breasts and my hair was loose. No wonder Eames was pissing himself, Arthur looked like he wanted to murder the man and sell him for dog food and Cobb was white lipped with quiet fury.

"It's lovely, isn't it?"

We all started at Fischer's voice. He was leaning against a white marble pillar with a glass of amber coloured liquid in his hand and, given a clear view, was now running a nakedly appraising eye up and down my body.

"You piece of shit, you come over here and I'll..."  
"Arthur!" Cobb barked. Fischer ignored them and sauntered closer.

"Made by Loewe, one of the finest leather workers in Spain. Famed for their impeccable cut and the extremely tactile quality of their products." He put out his index finger and ran it up my forearm. "I'd have to agree. Wouldn't you?" He looked straight at me with a half smile and my mouth went dry. Was he trying to play me? Did he want me? Oh god, did he want me? Beautiful blue eyed Robert Fischer making me into his personal wank fantasy- I could be drunk on that thought for years.

"Leave her alone." The words ground out of Cobb's mouth as he put a warning hand on Arthur's arm and another on Fischer's chest.  
"Don't worry," he held up his hands, "I'm content to just look. Unlike your friend, who seems to think I've besmirched the lady's honour and would do more given half the chance." He smirked into his glass, "Which I would." The sudden click of a gun being cocked sounded like a full stop.  
"I've had just about enough of you, motherfucker." Arthur had levelled his sidearm at Fischer's pelvis. "I'm going to start at the bottom and work up. How does that sound? Ever bled to death?"  
"For goodness sake Arthur, don't be so melodramatic. It's only his projection after all. It's not like he actually wants to steal Ariadne from you."  
"I don't know. I think she looks very...appealing. Are you real, my angel? Or can I dream you and I somewhere nicer, without your three brothers getting in the way?"

"Look, I'm not interested in you or your leather thing..."

"You complete and utter cu..."

"Honestly, calm down, will you..."

"Enough!" Cobb's shout cut through the jumble of our voices.  
-  
"Eames, shut up and give Ariadne your jacket, now. Arthur, put the gun away and act like you're thinking with your head, not your dick. Ariadne, don't lose your temper, it'll only destabilise things. And Mr. Fischer," Cobb took a very deep, controlled breath, "Mr. Fischer, the lady is not here for your titillation."

"A shame." He muttered. Cobb's jaw set and his mouth compressed into a tight line, but he stuck to the script.

"Mr. Fischer, I don't know if you remember me. My name is Mr.Charles..."

~#~  
"I think it must have been the demerol." Yusuf frowned when he finally heard the story. "It sounds like he was drunk and his inhibitions were down."  
"And fucking hilarious to boot, may I just say."  
"Be quiet Eames. Next time it might be you wearing heels and waving a whip. Then I certainly won't go all in to defend your honour. I'll just sit back and take photos."  
"You wound me, sweetheart. I thought we were friends. Besides, Arthur and Cobb were going to rip him to bits without my help. Quite your knights in shining armour." His voice dropped to a stage whisper; "Just between you and me though, I think Arthur rather liked you in leather."

I risked a glance at the point man, who was glued to his computer. Only the delicate pink on the tips of his ears betrayed the fact his attention wasn't wholly on his research. Quite suddenly his gaze flicked up and held mine for a second, dark with promise that made my breath catch in my chest. Then he smiled, a small, secret smile, which I returned. Later, then.

"Eames, you have too much imagination for your own good." I dragged my attention back and fixed him with a grin. "Just like Fischer."  



End file.
